


The Conqueror of Time

by RedNightDeer



Series: Ra'sbat week 2019 (Ra'stim) [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harem, Don't copy to another site, M/M, well not really harem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 15:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20780849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedNightDeer/pseuds/RedNightDeer
Summary: Tim is working, and Ra's thinking about the past.





	The Conqueror of Time

The candle had died a long time ago and Tim hadn’t noticed it, his eyes had gotten used to the moonlight. The summer wind was refreshing, it felt good after a very hot day. 

A buzzing sound made its way to Tim’s ear and he tried to hit the mosquito. He missed two times before being able to crash it on the cold marble. 

An owl’s hooting echoed in the distance, suppressing the sound of multiples crickets. 

Tim’s hand was moving slowly, the white feather looking too big between his dainty fingers. He moved a little bit to ease his numb back and the silk of his black shalwar kameez swished in the silent night.

“Still working?” said Ra’s in Arabic. His voice was soft. He stepped out of the room and joined Tim on the balcony. The young man only hummed as an answer. “You should sleep. I do not wish to dip you into the pit again because you worked yourself literally to death.” Tim hummed again, focused on his writing. 

Ra’s sat next to him, looked at the sky and its stars. “Do you remember our first time meeting? I do.” 

Tim hummed, like always. Ra’s wasn’t expecting a real answer. Tim never spoke when he was working, unless it was necessary. 

* * *

Ra’s was walking in the corridors, heading to his office. Two servants opened a door when he came closer and he walked into a new corridor, decorated with mosaics. People were waiting on the side, heads down. Ra’s didn’t look at them. He had passed by them when a young voice rose; “Ra’s al Ghul.”

Ra’s stopped and waited. 

Everyone in the piece were holding their breath.

He turned slowly, as if he wanted to frighten the one who had dared to call his name. 

The boy had stepped out of the line. He was wearing a dark red caftan; the attire of the concubines. The thick fabric couldn’t hide his skinny body. He had a light complexion, contrasting with his raven hair. He wasn’t strikingly beautiful, but good enough to be accepted to the palace as concubine, and him becoming one was surely du to his eyes. They were big, blue and surrounded with a myriad of thick black lashes. They were quite nice.

Ra’s advanced and stood in front of him.

As the man opened his mouth to speak, the boy slumped and he caught him in his arms instinctively. He looked at him; his blue eyes were shining under the torches’ light, and then the boy fell suddenly unconscious. 

* * *

Ra’s went back in the room and came out with a bowl of oranges and apples. He sat back to his place, took out a little dagger from one of the sleeves of his suit and started peeling a red apple. 

“It has been centuries, but I still do not know if you fainted because you were genuinely frightened of me, or you just wanted to get more of my attention.” Tim nodded. “Tu es tombé dans les pommes, comme le dit-on grossièrement,” he added while offering a skinless piece of apple. 

Tim took it and ate it in three bites, while dipping his feather into an inkwell. Ra’s started eating his part silently.

“Batman is planning to infiltrate our basements in Qurac.” Tim’s Arabic sounded perfectly impeccable for most ears but Ra’s could discern in his speech a little accent. 

“What are you planning to do?” He offered a new piece of apple.

“To trap him.” His voice sounded high-pitched, as if he felt insulted by the man’s question, as if he should already have known what Tim was planning. “Moreover,” he continued and Ra’s arched an eyebrow, “we might catch your traitorous grandson too.

— No, we are not going to.

— Him not being under our control is a major problem for us. He knows too much about the League. He is a potential threat.”

Ra’s gave him an orange piece. Tim ate it, yellow juice trickling down his fingers to his wrists and elbows. He tried to lick it, surely instinctively, but came around after running his tongue on his forefinger. No one licked his hands in the presence of Ra’s al Ghul. 

“Let’s put my stupid grandson aside for now.”

Tim continued writing, and the scratchy sound produced by his feather on the paper got mixed with crickets’ one. Ra’s gave him another orange slice, and after eating it, Tim got up and went to the interior.

He came back with clean hands and cotton towels. He sat to his previous place and took back his pen and paper in hand. 

“Do you remember your request? The first one, when you were a-

— I never was one.”

— Barging in like that… I really spoiled you, my little capricious boy.”

Tim didn’t say anything, but his pen had stopped, waiting. 

* * *

The room in which Tim had opened his eyes was plain. There was an herbal and charcoal smell in the air. 

“The Master wants to see you,” said an old woman sitting on a chair, sorting mint leaves.

Tim stayed silent. He got up and followed her along corridors until a gold door decorated with demon and djinn gravures. He entered the room.

Ra’s was working, reading a paper and taking notes on another one. His hand was moving slowly, lazily.

Tim sunk on his knees and lowered his upper body until his forehead was touching the persian carpet. He waited a long time before Ra’s put his feather aside and finally looked at him.

“What’s your name?” he said in Tim’s language.

— Timothy Drake, your Highness.

— You are a war prisoner.

— Yes.

— So Timothy, for what reason did you call my name?” Ra’s voice was calm, even friendly.

“I request to work in the army. I do not think I will serve you well as a concubine. I will surely serve you better as a strategist.”

Ra’s hummed. “Will you? How can I be sure about it?

— Please, let me show my talents by giving me a trial. I know the League is in conflict with the Empire. I have plans. If your Highness thinks I am not good after the trial, then they can do what they wish with me.

— I can do right now what I wish with you.”

The silence in the room was tensing. 

“Stand up.”

He did what was ordered, but his eyes stayed low, on the floor.

“You are right about not serving me right as a concubine. You are too skinny,” he pointed out in a condescending voice. “Let’s see what you are capable of. I will give you the right to strategize and plan our conquete of the Empire.

— Thank you, your Highness.

— However, the moment you will fail, you will be killed.”

The threat was clear.

“You can leave.”   
Tim retreated backwards, not turning his back to the man. Once the doors were closed, he sighed. A servant came right away and ordered him to follow him.

* * *

Tim was Ra’s right hand, counsellor and one of his generals. His position was at the same level of Talia al Ghul’s. However, those were his official names. Unofficially, he was the man’s eyes, ears and hands too. He was his hitman.

Still, Ra’s could order his death at any moment and he wouldn’t be able to stop it. 

The Demon gave him another slice of orange.

“I am really happy about my decision regarding your request that day. Your talent would have died if you had stayed as a concubine.”

Tim hummed and nodded. His feather was moving again, planning their world domination, in the company of the moon and the cricket’s chant.

**Author's Note:**

> One of the scene's was inspired by [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TjY5zVvKSHQ).
> 
> 'Tu es tombé dans les pommes, comme le dit-on grossièrement.' means in French : You fell into apples.  
This is an expression for someone who fells unconscious. Ra's tells Tim this while giving him a piece of apple.


End file.
